


Turn on your Transporter Beam, Mr Sandman

by NineSoul



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: A whole bunch of stuff, And Lots of It, Eventual Romance, However you like it, Idiots in Love, M/M, Shameless, Side Effects, Weird Fluff, Wooing, implied sex, in-universe, kock - Freeform, really - Freeform, reboot!verse, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NineSoul/pseuds/NineSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A groan fills the minimal space between feverish kisses and Jim didn't know whose it was but it was hot. "Didn't know you had this in you, Mr. Spock," Jim chuckles, wrapping his legs around Spock's hips and making himself comfortable.</p><p>"I would say the same, but it is against my nature to bend-" Jim rolls his hips and Spock's speech stutters. "Bend... the truth."</p><p>"That better be the only thing against your nature to bend, because if it isn't this is going to be awkward," Kirk mutters out in one breath and doesn't have a chance to get any air before Spock is pressing him harder into the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn on your Transporter Beam, Mr Sandman

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, one and all, to... this. xD This is my first Star Trek fic (that will see the light of day, so don't be alarmed. I am a professional) as well as my first near porno, which I am better at than I probably should have been. It was supposed to be one long, torturous smut-fest, which, obviously, I copped out on, because it's only rated T, but it's on the edge. You'll like it, ya perv. ;)
> 
> Anyway, the time period is non-specific, perhaps set between reboot movies, and extremely Sprik-centric. Any space or future or technological terms used were pulled out of my ass, because I know nothing and am too lazy to research, but I think it's readable all the same. Now that you are informed, go forth and nourish your minds with this crack. This message will self-destruct.

The empty halls echo with the sound of one solitary set of bootsteps, calm but not without purpose. The ship is quiet and still, stopped for repairs on a small 'Fleet base in a galaxy that Captain James Tiberius Kirk doesn't bother to remember the name of. There are more important things to think about, including but not limited to the location of his entire crew.

It occurrs to him then just how odd that is; that there are no engineering techs or anybody fixing their electrical issues from that last little bump in the road. He looks around the stark hallways, expecting to see a cluster of redshirts at any moment, discussing something intensely or just goofing off or anything, but there is no one. Not a single red shirt to be found.

He is about to page someone, his comm poised and breath taken, when he spots the first sign of life he's run across since leaving his quarters. The blue shirt and tall frame stick out like an incredibly sleek sore thumb. Jim isn't sure how he missed the presence of his First Officer, but he sure as hell sees him now, examining a PADD with his back to his Captain.

"Hey," Jim calls his attention just as the lights flicker off. When they come back on a moment later, Spock is looking at him, inquisitive eyebrow raised. Jim gives a second's pause in case the lights decide to blink out again before continuing with a sweeping gesture, "Where is everyone?"

Spock frowns, intense Vulcan eyes narrowing slightly. "I was going to ask you the same," he says mildly. "I am not sure of the crew's whereabouts." He does a quick little glance down and to the left as if to indicate he has looked for them, turning his eyes back to Kirk afterwards with the barest hint of confusion visible on his face. "They are aware we are merely repairing the ship's deficiencies and returning to our mission within the day?" Spock questions.

"Not like there's anywhere they could go on this puddle of a planet," Jim says with a somewhat derogatory shrug. He is fairly certain they all knew, particularly those of higher rank within the ship, that they wouldn't be stopped there for long, but he could be wrong. It isn't likely, but it is still possible that nobody else, not even Bones and Uhura, thought to remain on the ship during their very brief repair... No, when he thinks about it, it's really not possible at all. "Did they find something really wrong with the ship while I was in my room?"

The Vulcan shakes his head minutely. "Not that I heard of, Captain." He steps over to a computer panel on the wall and types something in quickly, frowning when the screen changes. Spock types another command and the screen blips and comes back to the same, an unreadable error message from Jim's vantage point some six feet away. "The computer reads no lifesigns aboard apart from our own," Spock tells him, a small inflection making its way into his emotionless voice. He looks back at Jim, eyebrow raised further. "Is there a special event taking place on this planet today?"

The Captain strides forward to get a look at the screen, skims the low personnel message and tries to think if he's heard anything about a special event. He can't remember anything, though he tries his hardest to think. His mind has gone blank, balking at the idea of trying to find a reason that the entire crew of the USS Enterprise would be gone. "I don't know," he answers lamely, turning unfocused eyes in Spock's general direction.

To Jim's surprise, Spock does not suggest they search for the crew; he doesn't even appear to be thinking about it. When Jim focuses his eyes again, Spock is simply staring at him, dark eyes almost betraying a hint of emotion.

"What?"

An uncharacteristic pause separates Jim's question from Spock's acknowledgement. Spock then drops his eyes, shaking his head slightly. He folds his hands together behind his back, PADD held carefully away from his body, then straightens slightly. "It is nothing, Captain." When Jim says nothing, Spock adds, "I assure you."

"I don't feel assured," Captain Kirk says slowly, keeping a steady eye on his first officer. He can't place his finger on it, but he knows something is off. The crew is missing and, more importantly, Spock is acting oddly about it. Jim doesn't feel like the situation is urgent, like anyone is hurt, but he doesn't feel entirely at ease either. He shifts on his feet, never breaking eye-contact. "What's going on, Spock?"

The Vulcan glances down in a way that seems deliberate, but when Jim follows his gaze he sees nothing. "I do not know," Spock responds, entirely too casual, too accepting. Jim doesn't know what to do about this.

"Aren't you worried about them?" Jim asks tightly, stepping closer and narrowing his eyes slightly at Spock who seems to have forgotten he is still there.

He blinks, dark eyes connecting with Jim's. "No," Spock says, minute inflections of confusion, surprise and annoyance coloring his voice. He seems to stop short at his own words, blinking again. "I am not sure what is going on, Jim," he says, placing his PADD gently on a conveniently located workstation the captain had not noticed before, "but I am afraid I may have been affected."

Lots of things try to cross Jim's mind; thoughts really put in an effort to get their say in what alters his approach, but none of them quite make it far enough to stop his blind, unthinking curiosity, which is suddenly all he can feel. "What do you mean?" He scans for phsyical damage briefly with no results and, when he looks back at Spock's face, the alien is staring right back at him, intense as ever and very visibly confused.

"I... do not know." Spock looks down at his recently freed hands, frowning mightily. "There is a strange sensation in my fingers and torso. I had not been paying attention previously, Captain, which is also odd, but I believe it is spreading."

Concern blossoms dangerously bright in Jim's chest as he takes another half-step forward, arm extended but not quite reaching for Spock. "Are you alright?" He brings his palm up to hover by Spock's elbow, not touching, but near enough if it became necessary. "Does it hurt?"

With a quirk of his brow, Spock shakes his head. "No," he says, analytical confusion altering his tone, "no, I do not feel pain. It is, I believe you would say, like pins and needles. The sensation is not entirely pleasant."

Jim doesn't think before he seizes one of Spock's hands and examines it. Questions pop up in his mind vaguely, things like "have you touched anything weird?" or "have you eaten anything different?" but Spock knows better. He wouldn't do that stuff. So, all he's left with is the empty feeling that he needs to say something.

Carefully, Spock tries to pull his hand away, but he is not allowed, not when Jim knows so little. Surely Spock has the answers, if not in his hand, then somewhere. Looking at him now, growing noticeably more uncomfortable and turning a bit green at the ears as Jim continues to hold his hand, the captain forgot for an extended moment what he wanted the answers to.

"You," Spock begins suddenly, causing Kirk to start, "are quite possibly the most intelligent man I have ever met. You know what is happening. You know the answers."

He thinks that he might understand, feels a fuzzy little inkling of recognition playing at the corners of his mind. And yet, he cannot stop himself from wondering what is going on. "I don't understand," he says, practically to himself, a heavy frown forming between his brows.

Spock takes a very bold step forward. He looms over Jim, though he is only an inch or two taller, and lifts the hand that Jim has been holding for the past couple of minutes until it cannot be ignored. The Vulcan glances at their hands, curling his fingers around Jim's carefully, subtly, and things start clicking into place. "The pins and needles in this hand have ceased," he says in his deep, smooth voice, and if Jim hadn't already figured it out, he knew now.

He looks at their hands, clutches a little tighter. "So, this is a...?" He leaves his question open, unable to finish it and sure that Spock would know what he meant anyway. Jim turns his eyes back to Spock's face with considerable effort to see the Vulcan nod once. He could not decide at first if it was good or bad. Jim supposed it should be easy to say it was a good thing; that he ought to be glad that the entire crew wasn't _actually_ missing. But he felt a very keen disappointment that everything else—being alone with Spock, holding hands, standing so close—was just a _dream_.

In his conscious mind, Jim never knew that he wanted this. But here, in this dream, touching and feeling and experiencing what it could be like, he is sure he has always wanted this.

"Do not be disappointed, Jim," Spock says, touching their foreheads together gently. "We have this."

He tries to let it be, to accept that for what it is and all it promises, but Jim still feels the sting of bitterness. "I know," he says, for no reason at all, "I know." He breathes in Spock's air, closes his eyes against the all-too-real sensation. He can feel Spock's alien warmth where their hands and foreheads meet and he knows it isn't real, he can comprehend that much, but the lines are blurred just enough that he doesn't want to. And he can convince himself for the moment that he is indulging in a dream, but he has never felt so aware of his mind's sleeping creations before. It's disconcerting, but then all he can think of is how close he is to Spock's lips.

"It is all right, Jim," the vulcan tells him gently, shifting just a little. "I will be here."

It doesn't make sense and he knows he's not getting the answers to any and all questions floating around in his head and it's frustrating, but he can feel Spock's breath on his lips, can smell his peculiar clean scent so, so close and it doesn't matter. Not right now. All that matters is this.

Kirk lifts his chin up, brushes gently against Spock's lips, but he's never had a single sex dream that was gentle. He takes a moment, a very brief, very disturbing moment to consider what's happening, consider the waking ramifications of having a dream about his First Officer, but then their tongues meet in a way that's just too life-like to sweat the small stuff.

Every inch of sculpted Vulcan skin he can reach, he does, and it feels damn good. It may all be guesswork, but Kirk can just imagine all the solid definition pressed against his body and he shivers when he is lifted by his hips and backed into the wall. When he thinks about it too hard, the feeling fades a little, so he dives right back in, bites a lip not his own and indulges himself.

A groan fills the minimal space between feverish kisses and Jim didn't know whose it was but it was hot. "Didn't know you had this in you, Mr. Spock," Jim chuckles, wrapping his legs around Spock's hips and making himself comfortable.

"I would say the same, but it is against my nature to bend-" Jim rolls his hips and Spock's speech stutters. "Bend... the truth."

"That better be the only thing against your nature to bend, because if it isn't this is going to be awkward," Kirk mutters out in one breath and doesn't have a chance to get any air before Spock is pressing him harder into the wall.

The Vulcan's lips hover annoyingly far away from his own and Jim is about to complain when Spock quirks the tiniest smile. "Do not worry about that," he whispers in the most teasing tone Jim has ever heard him use and it is so damn _sexy_. For a fleeting moment, as uniforms are being ripped away, Jim finds a bitter kind of amusement in dream-Spock's behavior.

And then Kirk is looking only at the plain white of the pillows in his quarters aboard the Enterprise, and the only sexual sensation he has going on is a lonely morning situation between him and the mattress.

oOo

His first sign that something was wrong came in the middle of a meeting on the bridge. The meeting was insignificant and could have been avoided on the whole except that Jim never seems to want to listen to him, but it did not matter. In every meeting Jim would eventually interject with some manner of order that was not entirely sarcastic and reveal that he understood Spock's point of view all along. But in that particular meeting, Jim did not even look at him.

As soon as the meeting ends, Spock tracks down Captain Kirk, hands clasped behind his back. He notices that Jim glances at him and looks away again, his posture uneasy. "Are you well?" Spock inquires, inclining his head as he has seen communicates a more human sense of interest, gently urges most humans to confide in him.

Quite unreasonably, Jim laughs. "Spectacular," he mutters, in what Spock believes is sarcasm, and slips away as a redshirt comes to ask Spock's opinion about something that he is sure any other officer on deck would have equal knowledge on. As he watches Jim walk away, he resolves to ask him again later.

oOo

The next time he has a dream about Spock, he knows immediately that it isn't real. He would like to say that his first clue is that they are in an earthbound motel room, but that isn't it. His real first clue is that Spock is wearing an old-timey nurse outfit.

"Are you well?" Spocks asks, twirling the end of a stethoscope that Kirk didn't notice until then. The Vulcan's outfit consists of a short-sleeved, baby pink, too-tight button-up top and, though the thought is hard for him to fathom even in his dreams, even tighter pale pink pants.

Jim swallows. "Better now that I have this," he says mildly, licks his lips, and gestures vaguely towards Spock.

An impressive eyebrow raise. "Whatever do you mean?" Spock sounds so serious, even as he takes a seat on the strangely neat bed and folds his legs to the side.

He wants to say something snarky about the outfit, or anything, really, but Kirk's dream self just walks over to stand in front of Spock at the foot of the bed. He hooks his finger in the pocket over Spock's heart and pulls until the top button pops.

The Vulcan watches as the second button comes undone and his eyebrow hitches up even further. "Am I to assume that fictional medical professionals are for sexual purposes?" he asks, his intense eyes looking up through inhuman eyelashes, directly into Jim's eyes.

"Why else would you be a vintage nurse?" he asks with a smirk, and it isn't what he wants to say, but it will do.

"Perhaps your subconscious is alerting you to an illness you are beginning to suffer from?" Spock suggests and he sounds serious, but Jim feels like he's joking. Spock takes the stethoscope from around his neck and reaches up slowly to place it across Kirk's shoulders. "But why, then," he continues, "would _I_ be here? Why not Doctor McCoy?"

The scene goes a little dark around the edges at the thought of Bones, and Jim tries to shake it off by climbing up on dream Spock's lap. Warm Vulcan hands ghost over his ribcage to steady him, grounding him back in the dream. Jim bites the grin that overcomes him.

"It doesn't matter," he says, bracing his knees on either side of Spock's narrow hips and settling in. "Because in my dreams I don't need a doctor. I need a fictional medical professional to satisfy my sexual needs."

Spock laughs then, and Jim can't imagine the grin, but the sound is amazing. "You are what I believe is called a hopeless romantic," the Vulcan mutters, reaching for the hem of Kirk's uniform top. "Now tell me: where does it hurt?"

Jim wakes up an hour later, mid-enjoyment of his dream, on the edge of a sigh. He turns over, grinds his teeth together and ignores his more persuasive urges.

oOo

Spock is midway through briefing Captain Kirk on their latest assignment—to sample and analyze some unique spores floating in the atmosphere of a planet with which Starfleet had only recently gained an alliance—when he realizes that no one else is around and still Jim is not looking at him.

It is unusual and irksome and, though he had not truly forgotten, it reminds Spock that he has yet to ask Jim why he was acting so strange before. He tries not to think about it much, especially since there have been other incidents of Kirk behaving oddly. One day he'd laughed out loud as he'd passed Spock talking to a nurse in the hall, and looked down with a mysterious grin when Spock sent him a questioning look. Stranger still, Jim barely spoke to him now outside of business matters, even when they had transported a group of female aliens that Spock had to admit, if only to himself, were fairly attractive. If everything were as it should be, Jim would have made any number of comments, all sexual in nature.

As Spock finishes his brief—which is not something that he is required to do, he simply believes that Jim is ignoring the brief—Jim nods and gives him permission to leave. However, he remains standing behind Jim's chair, PADD tucked neatly in the small of his back. He waits for acknowledgement, keeping his eyes strictly away from Jim's computer screen.

A moment later, Jim tilts his head. "Do you have something else for me, Mr. Spock?"

He does want to ask what has been on Captain Kirk's mind, but he pauses to analyze the tone of his voice. It strikes Spock a little peculiar, the emotional intonation, but he cannot immediately identify it. He does not believe it is one he has heard before from Jim. Temporarily, he puts it aside.

Spock straightens his back, despite his perfect posture. "It has come to my attention that you are behaving... unlike yourself," Spock tells him, treading carefully over his phrasing and staring straight ahead.

Jim's chair turns towards Spock slightly and he hears the captain chuckle. He does not understand what is amusing. However, he keeps his opinion and his concerns to himself, expecting Jim to give an answer facetious in nature, as if to prove that Spock is reading too much into his behavioral pattern. That, he decides, is precisely what Jim will do.

On the contrary, he hears Jim murmur something that sounded perplexingly like "I could say the same about you." Before he has the chance to question him, Jim urges Spock out of the room, insisting he has a mountainous pile of work to do and that Spock is distracting him.

As he stands in the hall, unsure what to think, Spock wonders at the un-Vulcan concern taking root in his mind. It could very well be that there is nothing wrong with Jim, but he did not find that option extremely likely. Perhaps he will catch Jim when he is less busy and corner him about his behavior.

Then again, Spock thinks to himself as he embarks down the halls of the ship, Jim's behavior has not been harmful to anyone, and he has not been any less productive. He could simply turn a blind eye to the sudden lack of socializing attempts by Captain Kirk. Spock allows himself a slight furrow in his brow. Acknowledgement of the slight change would neither help nor hinder daily life, he observes mildly. Spock internally lectures himself for getting distracted with pointless things and resolves to ignore the changes.

oOo

After a few weeks and more dirty dreams than he's had in his life up until then, Jim is going crazy. He can barely look at Spock, let alone work with him. It's next to impossible to be in the same room as him now, especially when Spock keeps giving him funny looks like he knows exactly what's going on. Bones has asked him any number of times in a multitude of indelicate ways what the hell is going on, and he's done his level best to dodge or redirect. He's pretty sure, by this point, that someone must have some inkling as to what he thinks about when Spock's back is turned (usually about Spock's back _side_ ), but no one has said anything to him yet.

He can't tell how obvious he is every morning after a special dream, or when he starts to feel like they are actually torturing him. Both issues eat at him during the day, every day, after just so many dreams. He doesn't dislike the material, but a little reprieve every now and then wouldn't hurt his feelings. It starts to seem like he can't shut his eyes without seeing provocative images of Spock, whether with Jim himself or solo. The visions are both stimulating and annoying the shit out of him, and doing neither half-assed. A weaker man might have given in and attempted something with Spock, but Jim knows things weaker men don't. Primarily that Spock would never go for him, no matter how many nights his subconscious drove him to cold micro showers.

It has been two and a half months since his first "romantic" dream about Spock when Jim has the most vivid dream to date. It's just after a long day avoiding Spock and he's so frustrated that he has trouble getting to sleep. When he finally dozes, the jump from conscious to subconscious vision is almost instantaneous and the relief is just as quick. He is sitting in the middle of a wide open room, which appeared to be wall-to-wall wood. The only items in the room are a long maroon cushion, almost like a a mattress, lying flat on the floor surrounded by tall, gently flickering pink candles. The room was oddly dark, with a warm glow that was so rarely seen in this century that Jim finds himself holding his breath as he looks around—and then he sees the ceiling. At first glance, it looks like millions of stars set into a purple sky, like there is no ceiling and Jim wonders how he can breathe, because he knows he's not on earth and it doesn't feel like a ship. Suddenly, a bright white ripple squirms across the sky and it becomes a view of six bright moons in a reddish atmosphere; the ceiling is a hyperclear holographic monitor, he realizes.

Jim blinks and he's lying on the cushion, staring up at the six moons as a comet passes leisurely through the middle. He has almost let his guard all the way down when one of the walls makes a light hissing noise and a small section opens into the room. Before he can see what is outside, Spock walks in and shuts the door behind himself with a faint click.

Jim's physical reaction to seeing Spock is immediate, obvious, and embarrassing, but Spock doesn't mention it as he approaches. "Are the images satisfactory?" Spock asks, hands tucked behind his back as he comes to a halt. He does not make any move to touch Jim, which is at once irritating and a relief. "They are among the most scenic images from the xx galaxy."

Kirk raises an eyebrow. He's fairly certain that's not a real galaxy, but as soon as he begins thinking about it, he stops. It doesn't matter. "They're nice," he says and sits up when Spock doesn't move any closer. "Did you do this?"

The Vulcan lifts his chin a little, the equivalent of anyone else puffing with pride. He says nothing.

"Do you want to sit down?" Jim pats the empty cushion where he had been laying. Spock just stares down at him.

"If you truly desire my company," he says, as meek as Jim has ever heard him, and kneels gracefully on the edge of the cushion. He looks nervous or uncomfortable and it's strange. Jim doesn't feel any tension, but he feels like he needs to say something to relieve it. He has never been good at knowing what to say to make other people feel better—so he doesn't talk.

Jim reaches up slowly and brushes Spock's alabaster cheek with his fingertips. He goes frigid for a moment, and then he leans into the touch and his eyelids lower seductively. Spock ducks in and Jim thinks the Vulcan is going to kiss him, but he just presses their noses together. The moment is warm and fuzzy and so _intimate_ that Jim loses himself in it and pulls Spock down to lie beside him, shoulder to shoulder. He tries to snog him, but he is bolted to the spot, unable to get his lips on Spock. There is no apparent reason for this, and it is extremely surprising, given the nature of all his other dreams, but he doesn't fight it. A subtle, indescribable feeling makes itself known in his core.

"I have always... Felt, I suppose, is the correct term—I have always _felt_ this way," Spock says not in his usual overconfident, cold manner of speaking, but rather in a voice barely above a whisper. "We do not strictly _need_ to engage in sexual activities; that is how I feel."

The ceiling ripples again and a seascape with sparkly neon green waters and a star-speckled sky, broken up by a stripe of brilliant pink lights, colors the room. The pink is reflected in Spock's eyes as he stares directly at Jim, unblinking, and the sharp edges of his gaze appear soft and gentle. It's as romantic a dream as Jim has ever had, just by the feel of it—mushy like old movies and intimate like the word caress—and it's scary and he never wants to stop feeling the tightness in his chest and lungs. "I hate you," he says quietly, pouting, and he knows Spock won't believe him. He isn't sure that he's kidding.

"I am sorry that you feel that way," Spock murmurs good-naturedly, as he lifts one hand to run a finger gently over Jim's cheek. "However, my stance on the matter has not shifted."

"You're stupid." Jim expresses his general hatred by laying his head on Spock's shoulder. He feels so strongly the comfortable pain and warmth in his chest, and he's confused to an extent. It is mostly on the surface, and mostly just to make himself feel better.

"I am afraid the conversation has taken a turn which I can not logically assess, nor agree with. What has brought you to this conclusion, Jim?" Spock asks and it sounds like he is genuinely curious. Jim cannot contain his laughter.

With a slow kind of realization, Jim opens his eye to an empty room, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips.

oOo

One day, several weeks out from the last time he spoke to Jim about his behavior, Spock witnesses a conversation that makes him rethink his decision to ignore the peculiar activity.

He is passing by sick bay in a brisk manner, as he has somewhere to be, but as he passes he can hear familiar voices carrying on inside. Spock is not in the habit of hesitating, much less eavesdropping, but he does not much analyze his decision to hover by the door and listen in. For the sake of his dignity, however, Spock pretends to be reading a multi-page article about the use of advanced geo-probes for interplanetary holographic study. He does not read a word of it.

"Damn it, Jim," the voice of Dr. McCoy grumbles all too familiarly and Spock can hear pacing. "I'm a doctor, not your personal counselor! What the hell do you want me to say? That there's an antidote for your REM cycle? There is, actually, but I'm not going to give it to you because that's not healthy."

"Listen, Bones, that's not what I'm asking for. I'm a little concerned about your insubordination, though, come to think of it. You wouldn't treat me if you could?" Jim's tone tries to be lighthearted, Spock can hear it, but he is troubled and it colors his words.

Doctor McCoy heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Now you listen to me; that's not what I said, you bastard, and you know it. If you really think it's going to help, _and_ you ask nicely, I'll give you the injection, but I wouldn't recommend it."

Spock hears the pacing stop and unintentionally inclines his head towards the door. When Jim doesn't say anything right away, Spock has to stand in the relative silence reflecting on his choices, and on the way Jim has been acting recently. He worries for both, but not in equal measure. He does not move.

"...Okay. What if it is what I want? What are the side effects?" Jim asks quietly and Spock looks up from his cover article. "Because I don't know what else to do, Bones. There's no one I can talk to about this except you." Spock narrows his eyes at a spot on the floor. He does not recall giving Jim the impression that he would not listen to his troubles.

"For the love of- Jim, did you not hear me? It would be against your doctor's orders and, more importantly, incredibly stupid! You wouldn't get any real sleep and there could be loss of appetite, gain of appetite, vomiting, diarrhea, muscle spasms, paranoia, hair loss, loss of function in your arms and legs, extreme swelling _everywhere_ and flop sweats!" Spock could practically see Doctor McCoy's red face and wild gestures. "It'd be a hell of a lot easier just to confront the issue, you know."

He did not favor the expression referring to perked ears, but Spock feels it is accurate to say that his are. He is not proud.

"Don't act like I haven't thought about that, because I have. But it wouldn't... I can't..." Jim's voice is weak and wavering and Spock cannot peel himself away, even as a duo of nurses appear at the end of the hall. "You know as well as I do, Bones. Unless you think there's hope, I'm gonna try the treatment." There is a thick silence from the room that quickly gives way to the nurses' idle chat. "I've gotta get back to work," Jim concludes abruptly, Spock can hear him turn and start walking, and with no more than a glance to the nurses he makes haste to the nearest empty room in which he can stand and process information without interruption. Incidentally, he also moves in the direction he believes is less likely for Jim to travel.

Spock generally prides himself on his ability to process information and think logically—two major traits of his dominant race—but the talent seems so far out of his reach in the moment that something rather like panic sets in. He has a few stray theories pop into his head, as that is the only way to describe the shallow ideas that form quickly and without his authorization. He cannot bring himself to believe that night terrors (his initial suspicion) are the reason Jim had a clandestine meeting with Doctor McCoy. After a moment collecting himself, rationalizing, clearing his head, Spock refocuses on logic. For a moment the concept is foreign, but then it starts to flow naturally like a river and if the scientific reasoning is a guilty comfort for Spock the only witnesses are the stark white walls around him.

He absorbs the clear thinking like a dry sponge and lingers on the fact that there is not one single life in danger, no planet in peril. There was no reason for him to fret so greatly; it did not make sense. In his surge of logic, Spock quickly cuts through what little information he has to determine that a much more reasonable cause for Jim's behavior is post-traumatic stress disorder. The diagnosis would account for more than just recent activities, and could include night terrors. Spock nods to himself, smoothing his uniform with a quick tug and standing up a little straighter. With a small, cleansing breath he re-entered the hall, his mind made up. He would find out what had caused this undeniable trauma and do everything in his power to help Jim get back to normal.

oOo

He is fairly certain that his life has spiraled completely out of control. Rather than that, he feels as if there are no other options. Jim sits in his chair for as long as he can—embarrassingly shorter than the hour it would take to finish his actual work—and then he can't sit still anymore and he has to pace around, but the hallway is no good because he feels like there are cameras all over the place and, goddamn, he feels like throwing up again.

Jim does his best not to run to the nearest garbage receptacle, but he's not sure he succeeds as he only just makes it in time. He hasn't eaten much in the last few days, but a hell of a lot has come up. He'd learned quickly that Bones wasn't just trying to scare him with all those side-effects. At least the vomiting, paranoia and lack of sleep were real. And muscle spasms, goddamn, those were a bitch.

For the third time today, Jim hurries off to brush his teeth and just barely convinces himself not to take another dose of the antiemetics that Bones prescribed him. He's pretty sure they've all come up, but Bones warned him against over-medicating and he's really trying to be a good boy. (Not out of the kindness of his heart; he said he doesn't want to explain Jim's limbless corpse to the higher-ups.) It's hard for him, in the position he's in, to lay low with bad symptoms and a worse cure, but he sticks it out. He's strong.

Spock, as it turns out, is also strong, and irritatingly keen. Jim knows that he's been found out the day after he starts taking the shady medicine, but he plays dumb. Spock tries to get him to talk, in his own stale way, and offers an unnerving reprieve in the form of patience with Jim. After he's been on the drug a few more days, Jim learns that Spock is patient with him in front of everyone but Bones, for whom he acts like a total dick. It is at once perplexing and hilarious, although the change seems to have gone unnoticed by everyone. Bones thinks Spock has never been civil with him, but Jim knows better. He also knows that Bones is very entertaining when his feathers are ruffled, and he appreciates the interactions more and more as he starts to feel worse.

He wonders, sometimes, if it's worth it. He's only slightly less awkward around Spock, in exchange for hideous nausea, restless legs and exhaustion. It isn't a fair trade-off, he thinks, and then he carries on a whole conversation with Spock like a normal, if tired and paranoid, human being, without finding double-entendres in their speech. It's hard to see it, but Kirk believes that he is going to get over whatever it was about Spock in no time and be able to work together with him again.

When he is lying awake at night, or sleeping fitfully and waking up to make sure there are no monsters under his bed, it is much more difficult to imagine the treatment is helping. He wonders if he maybe should have just told Spock how he feels, but he has never done well with rejection.

oOo

Spock is well and truly confused. It does not take long after he overhears Jim and McCoy arguing for him to see the changes. Not much longer after that, Jim begins talking to him again, the picture of professionalism. The Captain is visibly losing weight and has not been thinking clearly or resting properly, Spock can tell it all in a glance. He attempts to urge Jim in the direction of counseling, but the man is stubbornly clinging to the misgiving that Spock believes him to be dim. Spock knows he's avoiding the issue. He also knows that they have an assignment coming up that requires the Captain to be at least partially coherent and he hasn't been coherent for a week, at least. Thus, Spock continues in his efforts to coerce Jim into better treatment.

He is not an advocate of Doctor McCoy, even as he is fully aware that Jim was the one who demanded treatment. He is not proud of the way he acts around the doctor, nor how he tries to keep Jim away from him. It is illogical, to an extreme that he does not dare calculate. However, the only one who seems to notice a difference is Jim and, of all things, he is amused. It makes Spock feel slightly better, but he knows that is not morally correct so he discourages it as much as possible by avoiding the doctor.

"What the hell is going on?" McCoy shouts after him one day, as Spock is escorting Jim to an issue that he could have resolved on his own, and Jim laughs breathily and shrugs. Spock ignores the doctor. He feels the need to reiterate to himself that he is not proud, especially when Bones shouts about pointy-eared menaces and Jim laughs louder.

The following day, as everyone is preparing to dock on a satellite bay just outside the purple-swirled atmosphere of a planet which has been experiencing odd natural disasters of increasing severity, Spock loses track of Jim. They have 2.1 hours left until they dock and he's not answering his pager, nor has he made an appearance for the past few updates. Spock had been with him that morning, knows he hadn't been feeling well. No one he passes in the hall seems to know where Jim is, or even to have seen him at all in the past few hours.

Spock stops first by Jim's quarters and finds them empty. He consults Mr Scott over the comm, thinking Jim may have gone down to make sure everything was running smoothly, but he was cursed off the line with a resounding no as Mr Scott yells on the other end at Keenser to stop hitting something. He goes back to the bridge only to find Jim is still absent. He does not expect her to know anything, but he asks Uhura anyway. She expresses concern for Spock, but not for Jim, and Spock promptly leaves the bridge. He does not understand why no one is suspicious of Jim's absence.

And then his personal pager and the intercom buzz at once and Doctor McCoy's voice shoots into the hall loud and clear. "Will someone get ahold of that dag-blasted, green-blooded hobgoblin and drag his ass to sick bay!" he shouts, rather than asks, and the com clicks off. Several officers in the hall look to Spock in confusion. A moment later, the com clicks back on and Bones growls, "I said please, goddammit!" and then it goes off, the animosity of the click somehow greater now.

Spock cuts through the busy hall and jams the button for the turbolift perhaps more forcefully than he ought to. It's too slow getting there, and everyone in the hall is nattering on amongst themselves about McCoy's announcement and staring. Spock stands up as stiffly as he can, shoulders back, hands clasped, and as soon as the lift arrives he takes two brisk steps to the center of it and no one joins him before the door closes, but they all watch him until he's gone. He does not imagine their gazes are accusatory; he sees them like that anyway.

When he approaches sick bay, all the medical staff are hovering around outside one entrance looking ruffled and grumbling amongst themselves. They part for him at the door and every one of them looks confused and agitated and, finally, worried. One woman even offers her condolences to him, though he believes she is referring to the doctor's stormy mood. He hesitates in the entryway, but every second that passes seems longer and more riddled with heavy, restless thickness in the air and he finds it impossible to ponder any other possibilities—Jim must be in the infirmary.

"What took you so damn long?" McCoy hisses as soon as he spots him and, of all possible courses of action, guides him by the elbow to a corner. They are very near a line of patient beds, where the curtains have been drawn around two of them. Spock feels a sensation like his organs are rearranging themselves.

"Doctor. What has happened?" Spock inquires as serenely as he can manage in the wild-eyed face of Doctor McCoy. He can hear several machines blipping and deep, unconscious breaths—he wonders what could have happened since he'd seen Jim that very morning.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Mr Spock, Jim is fine." Spock raises an eyebrow to question how the doctor knew what he was thinking about. His eyebrow goes unanswered. "I lured the idiot here earlier to keep him from killing himself- don't make that face, I was talking about the legitimate medical treatment he's on! Jesus, Spock, he wouldn't– but that's beside the point! The point is, we only have a little time before the anesthetic wears off and he starts wondering why the hell he had to be put under to get a blood test!"

He is not sure quite where he missed the crucial information that would make those words make sense. "Doctor McCoy, I'm afraid you are under the impression that I would know better than he what is going on," Spock tells him, nodding towards the cordoned off patient beds.

"Oh, shut up, you. I'm not supposed to be doing this, Spock, but it's for that numbskull's own good, now listen," McCoy says quickly and with increasing Southern inflection, cutting his eyes to the doorway and back again. "You're not blind, deaf or stupid, near as I can tell, and despite all your insistence to the contrary I know you care. Jim hasn't been well recently, you know that."

"Yes, I-" Spock tries to cut in, but Doctor McCoy waves his arms madly and furrows his brow.

"Just listen, dammit!" McCoy hisses, ducking towards Spock. "I know you know all that stuff, but what you need to know is why! I told him I wouldn't tell you, but that was before the bastard lost twenty pounds he couldn't afford to lose in a single week and started wandering around like a schizophrenic zombie!" The doctor takes a breath then, the first that Spock has seen him take since he arrived at the infirmary, and glances once more at the entrance. "Jesus, I don't know if I can even say it."

"Surely you did not sedate the Captain and shout to the entire ship about my posterior for nothing more than a visit," Spock says discouragingly, but he isn't sure. He does not know what is going, what the doctor knows that he doesn't know, and it is beginning to gnaw at him. He has a bad feeling—tenuous and imponderable, but bad.

"Of course not, dammit! Good god, man, cut me some slack here! Jim couldn't even say it and he's the most shameless person I'm sure either of us has ever met," McCoy rushes, waving his hands like the lunatic Spock is beginning to suspect he is. "Jesus. It's a sensitive subject, ya damn green-blooded- Never mind. Listen, just do your Vulcan thing, okay? Look at his damn brain, Spock, because I don't understand this well enough myself to explain it."

A strange, curdled kind of fear strikes him at the doctor's request. He had never, until now, been asked point blank to delve into the depths of any being's mind apart from his own, and certainly never in such a crass manner. If it had been anyone other than Doctor McCoy—and, Spock adds uneasily, the proposed subject, Jim—he would not even consider it. Humans tended not to think of the Vulcan mind-meld as anything other than a handy parlor trick—Spock has learned this multiple times over. But it didn't feel the same when McCoy asked.

He feels a pull towards one of the patient beds and he is not surprised to find it's Jim's. McCoy is standing behind him, his presence rough around the edges of the scene, which, for Spock, seems only to be Jim, lying unconscious in sick bay. He cannot think of a time when he has wanted to meld with a human, but he feels it now. His scientific curiosity is practically vibrating to know what is going on inside Jim's head and it's so strong that he almost reaches out then and there to satisfy it. Spock isn't entirely sure what causes him to hesitate, but in the pause, he says, "I require a moment alone, Doctor McCoy."

"Sure," the doctor agrees slowly, and Spock hears him take a step back. "Be careful, dammit. And... don't blame Jim," McCoy adds as he leaves the room.

oOo

 _Quiet_ _affection_. _Longing_. _Lust_. _Flashes_ _of skin_ _and bright bursts of happiness. Closeness so familiar and so foreign and so good. Wave after wave of all manner of emotions, every shade of the spectrum and all so intense it could be a Vulcan's mind._

_A glimpse of a gold uniform shirt draws him into a room crowded with shadows. None of the figures have faces, none but his, and it's glowing. His cerulean eyes gleam with unvoiced laughter as he leans against a flat gray wall, compared with which he shines like the sun. The pull towards him is metaphysical and impossible to resist; Spock's very bones tingle with the need to be near him. He reaches out and glides over and-_

_He's staring at Spock. After a moment struggling against it, he remembers that he himself is Spock and he's seeing things through Jim's eyes, feeling everything he feels and it's so intense. There is so much love, an overwhelming pain in his chest, and the image of Spock causes sadness to rock through him._

_"You do not wish to dream of me anymore," Spock says to himself, and he watches the words move on his own mouth with a detached kind of interest. Suddenly and with a heavy whooshing, he is in his own body again, looking down at Jim._

_"I'm so sorry, Spock," Jim mutters gently, reaching out and brushing his fingertips down Spock's cheek and it feels like lightning jolting through him. "I didn't have another option. And, not to sound ungrateful but... How are you here right now? Did something happen to me?"_

_Spock thinks privately to himself how keen Jim is, and the words are no sooner in his head than they escape out his mouth. He doesn't understand why—it's Jim's dream, his consciousness is merely visiting—but it happens anyway and Jim's eyes widen._

_"Of course. I should have listened to Bones," Jim hisses and lowers his head. He begins to fade slightly, dropping his hand from Spock's face. His previously solid form wavers like an old hologram and Spock thinks they are both going to wake. But, just as the light begins to drain from the scene, with a gasp like a man returned to life, Jim surges back into focus. Amongst the sea of darkened, featureless beings, it is as if they are alone, Jim's heated gaze like a photon beam. "It doesn't matter. I fucking missed you."_

_The force of those words hitting him seems to go straight to his diaphragm and Spock tries to pull out of the vision, but he doesn't get far. His consciousness is floating just outside of the body perceived as his own when Jim grabs the back of Spock's thigh and joins their bodies together from collar bone to knee. He watches Jim kiss him from the outside and watches himself respond in kind. It is not until Jim begins to gyrate his hips that he feels he has violated a very intimate private moment in Jim's mind and he retracts quickly and full of guilt._

oOo

When Jim comes to, he does so with an alarming start. In the corner of his mind, he registers that Bones is yelling, but he's so tired and out of it that he can't understand the words. He sees movement and begins to ask what's going on, but he can't quite get the words out. He's just so damn tired, he doesn't know how he even woke up at all; he's asleep again before he finishes his next thought.

oOo

Spock cannot explain it. The tension has subsided somewhat with time, but the air is full of expectations. When he is around Jim, he is constantly waiting for something to happen, but he doesn't know what. Jim stares at him and Spock knows he feels it too, can see the spark in his gaze. It is difficult for him to fully comprehend this change, but he is not stupid; he knows it started when he melded with Jim.

As the days press on, he finds it increasingly more challenging to sit still and focus. He catches himself trying to turn around in his chair on numerous occasions just to reaffirm Jim's presence on the bridge and each time he stops himself from turning, but he cannot prevent his eyes from cutting over to Jim. In the back of his mind, there is always a question of where Jim is and what he is doing, if he is okay. The amount of concern he carries for that man is unsettling and he would prefer not to feel this way; that does not change anything. When he examines that feeling of concern, if he thinks about it too long, he finds that it is no more intense than before he melded with Jim. He re-examines the situation many times from multiple angles and the consensus never changes; he does not outwardly acknowledge his findings.

It has been no fewer than two weeks when Spock really begins to understand Jim's desire to cease dreaming. When he is at his best and most rested, Spock does not sleep much by human standards—a time of such luxury as sleep is unimaginable to him at the moment. It seems so long ago that he felt rejuvenated by slumber or anything of the like. Fiery flashes of stolen subconscious stirrings haunted his every blink as though he is thirsting for a mate; and only just the one. At the same time as he has never felt so distracted, he has never felt so solely focused on one objective.

The decline of his moral standards of late has him irritated and he knows that is what's bothering him when he snaps at Uhura. It is not his intention to scold her, but he is not entirely remorseful when he realizes he has hurt her feelings. She had merely been explaining to him about a new technological advancement in the field of linguistics, and then she had pulled Jim into the conversation. The two of them had shared a joke that Spock would not have seen the humor in, even if he had been in a good mood, and he just could not take it. He does not feel repentant in the slightest until he sees Jim's confused and disapproving gaze. That affects him more than it should, he knows it, so he spits his pardon and storms off before those sickeningly expressive blue eyes convince him to do something he is not consciously willing to do.

That evening, swarmed by personal pages from Jim, Spock commits himself fully to meditation. He does not pretend that he has not received the messages, simply that he is too busy—which is not a lie—at this time to respond. He settles into position on the floor of his quarters and only has to try for a few minutes to clear his mind before he slips into a thick and comforting darkness.

oOo

It's been too long since they were here, that is his feeling, as if they were once lovers in a past life. He doesn't much believe in stuff like that, especially not out loud, but he tells Spock. So many times, in the tropical pagoda setting on a night where the sky is bright pink and glowing with bioluminescent birds flitting about, he whispers his eternal and undying love and Spock believes him. The spaces between their separate flesh disappear and reappear in a steady rhythm for hours on end, long after the words between them die out.

When they wake, tangled together and pleasantly ignorant of the rest of the world, Jim whispers adoring words to Spock's collarbone. The words themselves are poorly formed and at such a low volume that Spock could hardly have heard them, but he hums a response nonetheless. Artwork speaking volumes of the contentment between the two of them is traced mutually and invisibly on arms and chests, where they don't have to move to reach. The moment extends for miles and after an amount of time that cannot be pinned down by either of them, Jim becomes inexplicably restless.

"I don't understand," he says, apropos of nothing, and he really doesn't.

By the arch of his brow, Spock doesn't either. "Explain."

"You know I love you," Jim asserts, presumptuous as he often tends to be. Spock does not say anything, so Jim presses, "Imagine that was a question."

"I do not-"

"Imagine that you have an imagination," Jim interrupts. He is getting exasperated, but he huffs a laugh and Spock readjusts underneath him. He might be annoyed at Jim for interrupting, or for the insistence of playing pretend, but it is unclear.

The Vulcan does his equivalent of an eye roll. "I do. Know of your affections, to be precise. I have no use of imagination."

"I wouldn't say no use," Jim mutters suggestively, sinking down to wrap himself around Spock once more.

"Your mind wanders far too easily. Do you have a point to your original statement?"

Jim chuckles, deep and scratchy with sleep still, and sits up just enough to look him in the eye. "You're the one to blame here for my 'wandering mind'. And, yeah, I do, actually. I love you." Under him, Spock's chest heaves with a long breath. "Whenever I see you, I can't stand it. Sometimes it makes me mad how much I want to be around you and talk to you and touch you. Hell, even the way you smell makes me feel like everything's perfect in the world. I know that's fucking sappy, but I mean every word and I just wanted you to know that. Okay?"

It is a long moment before Spock takes his next breath. The air is tense, but just a little—like everything there is to be tense about is already out in the open, already been visited. The hard part for Jim is over; now it's Spock's turn.

"I..." He tries not to hesitate, but feelings are not his most knowledgable subject. Jim can feel the awkward vibes rolling off of him, but he doesn't take it as rejection, and the relief is clear on Spock's face. "I have no experience... feeling this way. About a human, or any race. I do not... Things like your 'love' are not relevant to my position in my life. I do not want you to believe otherwise. This- I am too consumed by my work to pursue your romantic desire. The way things are now is good—I am pleased. But I do not have the time, nor the inclination to cater to your feelings."

Jim's hand stills on Spock's chest and his jaw falls slack. He begins to speak but the words wobble off into non-existence as the clear, bright image of the scene fades quickly to darkness.

oOo

When Spock awakens, it is suddenly, as if startled from real sleep, and he feels disoriented and afraid. He is not sure, at first, where he is or what has happened. In flashes, he remembers that he had gone to meditate after a long day of not being able to focus. And then he recalls his subconscious imaginings and dread fills him before he gets to his feet. It is logical enough to think the dream he just had was of Jim's creation, but in this one isolated incident, logic does not cut it—the dream was his own.

The term nightmare springs easily to mind and he accepts it before his staunch Vulcan dignity can stamp it down. He swipes his brow on impulse and pulls away a sweaty palm. He knows he can't argue with himself about what just happened. What he doesn't know is why he feels like he must act to prevent such a situation from happening with the real Jim. The notion is flawed at best, irreparably impulsive at its worst. He feels the urge to expel his worries, put his mind at ease. He could just go see Jim, acknowledge that it was merely a delusion, that the romantic aspect of the dream was just as made up as the cruel part. And then he realizes that any and all parts of the dream were cruel parts because he is in pain just to think about it.

For a good many hours, Spock lingers in his room, straightening papers and doing what work he could from his personal computer. He does not call it hiding, but he knows that is what it is. He is not proud, but he knows there are worse things than avoiding feelings. He also knows there are better ways to handle the situation, ones that would resolve it rather than leading it on; he does not want to think about those options. His best course of action, he decides by methods other than logic, is to keep his troubles to himself and avoid Jim.

It takes him all of two minutes to realize that the reason they were in this particular situation with neither of them speaking to each other is because Jim had done at the beginning exactly what Spock had planned to do. He pauses mid-stride and thinks about that little detail, wonders if he could just try his luck and hope for the best. But he doesn't believe in luck.

oOo

Jim is just finishing up his latest mission report—already a week overdue, they'd finished the mission ages ago—when he gets paged by Spock. There is no message, just a beep, and he's not sure what it means. He knows that Spock would call him if something was really wrong, but there are plenty of dangerous scenarios that could be playing out that would only allow for a simple beep. Captain Kirk mentally curses his mind and its tendency towards the extreme as he strides into the corridor, already on his way to the wing where the computer said Spock was.

His heart in his throat, his mind in a trench. He doesn't know what he's expecting to find until he sees Spock sitting, perfect posture and completely unscathed, and he is immediately relieved. "Spock," he breathes, trying to sound more casual and less like he had run all the way there. He did not succeed. "What's going on?"

The Vulcan, for once, distinctly does not raise either eyebrow. In fact, he hardly even looks at Jim. A brief glance, and then Spock readjusts in his chair and stares calmly at a spot near Jim's head, but not quite there. "There is something I must tell you," he says and does not continue.

Jim begins to worry again, but Spock seems unconcerned, so he pulls over a chair and takes a seat directly in front of Spock. Even with three feet between them, he could feel the heat from Spock's skin. He got side-tracked, regrettably and briefly, but after a moment he pulls his attention back to the conversation. "What is it?"

"I feel I must preface this by stating that no action has to be taken and that, in fact, this is more action than I would prefer to be taking on this particular matter, but I felt... No, it seemed only fair to inform you." Spock's voice is straight and taut with false normalcy, his eyes unblinking. "I apologize in advance for the inconvenience."

"Spock, just tell me," Jim demands, reasonably, he thinks, but then Spock flinches. "Please," he adds, gesturing as passively as he can manage.

It's not easy to sit and wait while Spock just stares at the ground with no outward signs that he is about to continue, but Jim does it. He tries not to fidget and stops himself from making any number of comments as Spock does his best impression of a burdened statue. It's difficult and his mind wanders off down a road of horrible possibilities—terminal disease, Vulcan troubles that would cause Spock to have to leave, distress within the crew that, for once, Jim didn't spawn, or worse; that he did—and it can't have been long that he's been sitting there, but the number of concerns crammed into the short time span made him all the more uncomfortable.

"The problem is I do not know precisely how to put this." Spock makes eye contact and then makes a face as if he's done it by accident, but he does not look away. "It seems that, entirely against my own desires and as much by surprise, I... I may have developed what can be called an attachment to someone in particular. That is to say, I find myself plagued by... unfortunate visions of more unfortunate scenarios, all of a disturbingly romantic nature."

Jim is startled by the vagueness of Spock's rambling, but moreso by his own fluttering hope. He can't gather much from Spock's impeccably horrible explanation, but he can read between the lines, and the writing between the lines is neon. Spock is talking about a crush; the sweet, naive baby Vulcan has his first crush. Jim cannot help a smirk, but he manages to contain the giggles. It is a hard battle—he almost loses—but for Spock's sake he keeps himself in check.

And then it occurs to him: Spock may not be talking about Jim.

His smile falls faster than an anvil out of an airplane. The jittery fluffy feeling in his chest is punctured by the blade of reality and he deflates almost instantaneously upon the cruel realization that he and Spock are not the only two people in the universe. There are so many others that Spock could harbor feelings for on the ship alone that, while it seems weird that he would formally report to Jim his love of some random crew member, Jim feels stupid for even considering that he might be the lucky bastard.

"Captain?" Spock is looking at him, head tilted, eyes wide and vacuous. "Are you listening?"

"Uh," Jim responds smartly, and the Vulcan lifts a frustrated brow.

"Captain," Spock admonishes, shaking his head very slightly.

"What? I heard most of it, but it's hard to pay attention when you're being so damn vague," Jim hears himself say, defensive suddenly and for no apparent reason. He feels guilty, of course he does, Spock doesn't deserve this, but the odds are against him and he knows it and it makes him angry. Jealousy has never looked good on him.

Spock looks at once affronted and perplexed. "I beg your pardon," he says, haughty in tone as he tends to be, "but, Jim, is that to say that you do not understand my meaning?"

Jim leans back and crosses his arms tightly over his chest. In his heart of hearts, he understands that Spock may be disappointed that he is not conveying what he's trying so hard to say, but Jim does not feel like cutting him any slack. "No, Spock, I don't understand your meaning. Please, enlighten me!" He gestures violently, jealousy turning him ugly, and he hates himself more than a little for it.

With a face like he is delivering the devastating news of an unprecedented disaster, Spock takes a deep breath, staring a hole into the sterile floor. "What I have attempted to illustrate is the entirely accidental event of romantic feelings towards my immediate superior officer," he bites, stiffly, with cheeks stained green. "I do not intend to act on these feelings, I cannot stress that fact enough. I can dismiss myself if-"

Jim can't feel his face, but he can feel his chest thudding painfully hard and causing him to lose his breath. He's a little dizzy and very hot and he doesn't make a conscious effort to move but he sees his own hand go up. Out of the corner of his eye, which he does not remember averting to the floor, he sees Spock adjust himself for the lecture he apparently expects. But Jim doesn't care about that; what Spock expects is not important because it is not what he's going to get.

"You are attracted to me," Jim sums up and it's not truly necessary, but he feels the need to phrase it as an uncertainty.

Spock, for his part, looks mortified in a sort of robotic way. However, he nods. "Affirmative. But I-"

"No buts," Jim cuts in sharply. He reaches out almost to Spock because he knows that will make the Vulcan look up, and it does. Caught by the anxious glimmer in Spock's eye, he sits speechless for a moment. Irrational embarrassment floods him and he knows this isn't the time for it, but he feels it anyway. When he was very young, he had had a crush on an older girl, prettiest creature he'd ever laid eyes on; his love confession to her was an elbow to the ribs. Years later, his confession to the woman who would be his one and only long-term relationship to date was a cup of coffee. He could have any man or woman at the crook of his finger, never had to ask for a thing, never told anybody he loved them because he never did. Spock would be his first.

He realizes belatedly that he's just been staring at Spock and that his first officer and the object of his affections looks vaguely alarmed. "Don't dismiss yourself," Jim finds himself saying, as if it is extremely important to say. "Don't dismiss anything, Spock, just- oh god, this is-this is so...!" Words fail him, so he gestures. Spock begins to look worried for his mental stability. It baffles him that he isn't being obvious—moreso that he hasn't jumped Spock's bones yet. His whole body is buzzing with happiness and hope and love and none of it can get out because he can't decide what to say first.

"Are you well, Jim?" Spock asks, extending one hand carefully. He leans forward in his seat, sharp brows furrowed, and Jim watches a dawning in his eyes. "... I suppose I have not been entirely honest with you," Spock mutters after a moment and Jim feels as if he's been interrupted, though he had not been speaking.

He tries to ask Spock to continue, but the words do not come out. He simply sits there, staring, waiting for the shit to hit the fan, with his heart in his throat.

Spock is staring down again, this time at his own lap, where his pale hands are folded over each other primly. Jim can just barely see where Spock has gripped the cloth of his trousers with one hand tight enough his knuckles were white. "When you were in sick bay many weeks ago—I am sure you remember the instance—I was there. Doctor McCoy had sent for me and he insisted that I... I am not sure, truly, what his intentions were, but I did something that I do not normally do out of concern for your wellbeing, Jim. I... Invaded your mind, without your permission or knowledge and knowing that you would not have consented, and I deeply regret my actions. However, what I saw, what I felt, inside your subconscious led me to the feelings I harbor now that I can no longer remember being without." Throughout his monologue, Spock is gravely serious and it is so endearing that Jim has to cross his arms to keep himself from gathering a big armful of Spock. "I will never be able to apologize enough, but I hope that you will be able to forgive me."

An almost unrecognizable giggle erupted from Jim, loud and perverse, and it isn't really funny, but he laughs because he feels like laughing anyway. "So," he begins, trying to put all the little pieces together in his mind, "you didn't know you liked me until you found out I liked you? Some fucking middle school 'check yes or no' bullshit? Oh god that is priceless." He is laughing so hard now that tears have begun to pool in his eyes and he loses track, for a moment, of whether he is actually laughing or just crying.

"I do not understand. Are you not upset with me? I overstepped, Jim, surely you-" Spock stops himself, staring at Jim with lips slightly parted. "I do not understand," he repeats, quieter, almost like a question.

Jim glides over to kneel in front of Spock, face-to-face and only inches between them. "Would you understand it better in these terms?" he asks cheekily and before he can stop himself Jim presses his lips to Spock's.

And it is nothing like in his dreams. The real thing is warmer and softer and solid and Jim feels like laughing again because there is no way to keep all of his joy within his body. He's doing it. He's finally kissing him and its magnificent. He loves Spock more than he has ever loved anyone or anything in his life and that is all that he cares to know.

Very hesitantly, Jim sits back on his haunches and waits for Spock's reaction. The Vulcan's face is a couple shades shy of bright green and his pitch dark eyes are unwaveringly glued to Jim's face. "Sorry," Jim says completely without remorse, grinning like a son of a bitch. "Couldn't help myself."

"It is... okay," Spock murmurs absently. His fingers are restless where they lay on his knees. "I... feel... odd."

Jim does not know how to take that information, so he doesn't think too hard about it. "Well, you didn't nerve-pinch me, so that's good," he mentions and sees Spock about to object. "No, I know you wouldn't have. I knew that, or else I wouldn't have kissed you. I'm not stupid, and I'm not a sexual predator."

Spock gives him a look that makes him want to laugh more. "There are numerous ethics passages against this very conversation," Spock says and it's so unimportant to Jim that he gives in and laughs again. "I do not see the humor in blatant disregard of guidelines. I... Am I to assume you do not want to have an approved association?"

So many sarcastic observations teeter on the tip of his tongue, but Jim contains them for now. More important than Spock's bafflingly romantic suggestion is the fact that it could have actually been romantic. "Rules were made for breaking," Jim offers and the quirk of Spock's brow prompts a grin out of him. "I'm kidding. You're saying you want to be official, right?"

The situation is just so that Jim cannot at any point stop himself from laughing, even at his own words, and Spock does not appear to appreciate his humor. "Is that not obvious?" the Vulcan questions, resituating himself so that he could cross his legs without knocking knees with Jim. "How you insult my morals..."

Jim laughs so hard he has to brace his hands on Spock's leg to keep himself from falling out of his chair. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I forgot you're a good girl," Jim snorts through another bout of giggles. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

With a very unimpressed eyebrow, Spock deadpans, "That is another conversation, Jim. Presently, we are discussing the legality of a hypothetical relationship." The part of Jim that is always thinking like a captain understands the clinical nature of Spock's attitude, but that is a very small part. The rest of him simultaneously doubts himself and wants to make Spock's cheeks and neck and ears green with the details of their "hypothetical relationship."

"Okay," Jim breathes, attempting to overcome his own nature. It isn't going very well for him, but he hasn't said anything too direct yet, so there is still hope. "If you're sure-"

"I am," Spock cuts in, his tone betraying an eagerness that his face has yet to show. "I am sure. It is not normal and it will be frowned upon, Jim, but I don't think I could ever be unsure. This feeling is... deep." On the last word, Spock's eyes go out of focus, somewhere beyond Jim's shoulder and he can't take it anymore.

Kirk stands and whirls around in the small space between them to sit next to Spock, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He makes to grab Spock's hand, but aborts at the last second and touches his forearm. It's a nervous mistake that he doubts himself, and Spock notices it. "I..." Jim doesn't know what he was about to say, but he stops and waits for Spock to react.

The Vulcan studies Jim's hand on his arm for a moment, his expression openly curious, before he slides his arm up and takes Jim's hand. As surprised as Jim is by this gesture, when he looks in Spock's eye he sees a deeper kind of shock, feels a quiver run from Spock through him. He knows then that he can't let it go. Whatever Spock wants, that's exactly what he'll get, because he's letting Jim in and that is more than the captain ever expected to get.

"Okay," Jim says, and his voice is very low, very gentle, though he wants to shout from the rooftops. He realizes that all he can do now is agree with Spock, carefully let him have his own way, because the goal is the same. He knows it, knows that Spock wants to be with him, but Spock wants to do things by the book and proclaiming his love over the intercom at top volume does not collaborate well with the qualification "by the book."

Spock cracks the tiniest little smile at him, not the know-it-all smirk he has barely gotten used to, and Jim loses his breath. It's going to be painful, keeping this to themselves until their budding relationship is approved by the Starfleet ethics committee, but he's going to try—for that smile, and that warm hand. Now that he thinks about it, Jim realizes that he has those things to himself until their courtship is approved. It would be their little secret, their inside joke. He would be a gentleman and Spock would be this adorable shy little alien and no one else would need to know. Their connection would be pristine, untainted by prying eyes and the inter-galactic rumor mill.

And, well, if he steals a few kisses and cops a feel or two before they even leave the room, Jim can't be blamed. Spock is too adorable to resist. "At least the door was closed," he tries to reason, later on, to a staunchly silent and faintly green Spock, who pretends to be miffed, even as they walk so close to each other that their shoulders touch.

— _On the bridge, while all of that was happening_ —

"Twenty."

"I'm not going to bet against you, I'm not that stupid."

"Come on, Uhura, this is supposed to be fun!"

"I vill take zat bet, Lieutenant."

"Don't waste your money, Chekov, they're definitely hooking up."

"It is okay, ze vager is just for fun. Right, Lieutenant Zulu?"

Bones walks in right about then, clipboard in hand, not necessarily searching for Jim or even hoping to see him there, but kind of wishing he was that easy to find. Not that he supposed now is a good time to tell Jim that he switched his meds out for sugar pills after he collapsed. On second thought, he maybe shouldn't tell Jim at all.

"Doctor McCoy," Sulu calls just as he turns to go do his actual job, and beckons him further into the room with a grin. "Care to get in on the action? I'm betting a twenty that the captain and Mr Spock are all up on each other, so far four against me, seven with me, and a spoilsport."

"Watch yourself," Uhura snaps, barely glancing away from her screen.

"I do not sink ze Keptin is like zat vith Mister Spock," Chekov adds with a weird twinkle in his eye, like he's saying the words for someone else's benefit.

Bones fishes a twenty out of his uniform coat and walks it over to Sulu, who is counting a pool of currency of assorted origin. "Oh, they're not screwing," Bones says casually, and several officers snicker while others groan in disappointment. He grins at Sulu's confused eyebrow raise. "Not yet. But the bet's for what they're doin' now, ain't it? So, you can just owe me a few drinks," he concludes, and then winks at Chekov, in reaction to which Sulu scrunches his nose. Chekov, for his lack of understanding of the English language, appears to know exactly what Bones meant by the wink, and the younger man grins.

As he leaves the bridge to go save lives and break ground in the medical field, Bones congratulates himself on his matchmaking ability. He guesses that Jim and Spock will be in each other's pants by the end of the week, and the week after that Sulu is going to ask sweet little Chekov out.

Now if only Bones could work that kind of magic on his own love life.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what we call "Accidental Angst, With Occasional Cuties Being Cute". Well, I tried. xD Reviews are love!
> 
> P.S.! Props to Ayara012 for basically handing me the title on a silver platter and for overcoming her embarrassment to proofread most of this story! (you know I love you, but I did get impatient and posted the rest without sending it to you. As compensation, you get a shoutout! xD)
> 
> —Nine~<3


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